A Better Tomorrow
by jak3combat
Summary: Helljumpers. Little Imps. Or just ODSTs. It doesn't matter what they're called, they're some of the best units in the entire UNSC, aside from the remaining SPARTANs. They've gone through rigorous trials to get to where they are today. Over New Mombasa, this group of Helljumpers don't quite make it to the ground. Instead, they arrive somewhere none of them can quite identify...
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: this story will be multilingual, as I have decided to not have everyone speaking english right off the bat. If you don't like that decision, you don't have to read this story.**_

* * *

"Prepare to drop, Helljumpers!" My CO called out. "Get in your pods and get your shit together, we're dropping in one minute!" There was a scramble to get to our drop pods before they were ejected. Sliding in, I made sure my DMR and SMG were tightly locked into place, and closed the pod, sealing me inside.

"Dropping in T minus ten." Lieutenant Drumms said over the secure channel. "Remember to secure the Scorpion as soon as you get out of your pods." He added, a few seconds before I felt the pod eject.

"What the hell is tha—" Corporal Fudd was cut off as a blinding light was able to pierce through my darkened visor, blinding all of us.

"Plasma torpe—" I tried getting out, but was cut off as everything faded away.

* * *

"... Up..." A voice fainly called out in the darkness. I groaned, trying to ignore it. "Get up!" The voice came in much clearer this time, snapping me awake. Standing in front of my drop pod was Lt. Drumms, glaring at me through his untinted visor. "That's an order!"

"Hooah, sir!" I said as loud as I could, but it still came out as a croak. Unbuckling myself, I was able to push myself out of the pod and nearly fell into the dir—

 _Wait, dirt? We're supposed to be in New Mombosa!_ I thought, catching myself on the side and keeping steady.

"Any idea where we are, Sergeant?" The Lt questioned, snapping me from my thoughts. I looked around the area, hiding a frown behind my helmet.

"No sir, it doesn't look like Earth." I answered. "If we were, there'd at least be a few visible structures. Nothing in sight except natural formations. And a lot of dirt." Hell, there'd be more grass than dirt with the way the continent was at this point.

"I was afraid of that..." He sighed. "C'mon, grab your kit and help me get the others out, if they survived the hit." I nodded and reached back into the pod, prying my DMR and SMG free of their clasps. After attaching the SMG to my thigh, I went around the makeshift drop zone and started prying off pod doors, mentally ticking off who was alive and who wasn't.

It was gruelling work as a Sergeant, but somebody had to do it.

* * *

"What's the group's condition?" The Lt. questioned me as I walked up behind him. I watched him sweep the area with binoculars for a moment, before answering.

"Sanderson and Williams are DOI, Allan has a broken leg and a concussion, which Zed is taking care of, and Frank, Chatner, and Calvin are covering the left, right, and rear flanks as we speak. Corporal Fudd is MIA, as his drop pod never hit the ground." I answered, clasping my hands behind my back. I didn't see it, but I knew that Drumms grimanced behind his visor; becoming a Dead On Impact was every ODST's nightmare, right on up next to having your pod bury itself into the ground, to the point where you had to get construction equipment or a SPARTAN to drag it out. Usually, they die of axplysation before that can happen. "The Scorpion survived completely intact, so we have our MBT ready on your command."

"Take them out of their pods and give 'em a proper burial." He said quietly. "They've finished the fight." I nodded and turned around, heading over to Allan and Zed to check on them.

"How're you doing?" I questioned Allan, crouching down in front of him. He chuckled weakly, having depolarized his visor.

"I've had worse injuries in boot, Sar'nt." He answered. "I'll make it." Zed finished with Allan's leg, got up and walked with me over to the tombs of the rest of the squad.

"He's lucky that a broken leg was all he recieved." Zed said in a low voice. "Had his pod landed a degree to the left or right, we'd be looking at a shattered spine, at best." I nodded silently and reopened Sanderson's pod.

"Could you go and get Williams out?" I asked the medic. "The Lt wants them buried before we leave."

"I'll go and borrow Frank's shovel." Zed nodded and jogged off towards the right perimeter, while I gently eased Sanderson's body out. For some very odd reason, I felt inclined to sing an old PT cadance.

 _"Helljumper, Helljumper, where you been?_  
 _Feet first to hell and back again._  
 _When I die, please bury me deep._  
 _Fix an MA5 down by my feet._  
 _Don't cry for me, don't shed no tear._  
 _Just pack my box with PT gear."_

I was whispering the entire thing so I wouldn't disturb the others, getting Sanderson out and gently lying him on the ground.

 _"Cuz earlier one morning 'bout zero five._  
 _The ground will rumble, there'll be lightning in the sky._  
 _Don't you worry, don't come undone._  
 _It's just my ghost on a PT run."_ With a small frown, I slowly collected the munitions from the pod and made a neat pile by his feet. Looking over, I saw that Zed was almost done as well.

* * *

"Helljumpers, fall in!" The Lt's voice suddenly barked out over the dry air. Almost instantly, we were standing in a line facing him, except for Zed, who was supporting Allan. "Alright, we're moving out on the Scorpion at 1800 hours, so get your shit squared away. Before you do anything else, finish burying Williams and Sanderson. That'll be all, Helljumpers." We all gave him a salute and returned to our tasks.

With Williams and Sanderson in their graves, Zed, Frank, Chatner and I started piling dirt into the holes.

"I can't believe they're gone, man." Chatner muttered.

"It's what comes with the job, sadly." I spoke up. "Some of us never get to really fight their last, so it's what we do before we're offed that really matters."

"I know..." He sighed. "It's just... I know that both of them would rather go down fighting than in their pods."

"Don't we all?" I grunted and looked around. "Honestly, I'm surprised that nothing's happened yet. Screw it being a jinx, where the hell are the local populations? The air is certainly breathable, here at least."

"Maybe they live underground?" Frank shrugged. "Don't think about it too much, sir." I looked down at the graves for a moment, before tapping my shovel twice against the lip of Sanderson's grave.

"You three finish packing up, I want you to be ready to move when I'm done." I told them. "I'll finish up here." They nodded and went to their pods to collect their gear, while I resumed my task.

"Who's driving?" Allan questioned as Zed helped him onto one of the tracks.

"Corporal Frank." Lt. Drumms answered. Frank gave him a salute, before hopping onto the Scorpion and popping open the canopy.

"Don't let me get hit by a rocket, will ya?" He said, sliding down into the seat and pushing his assault rifle into a clasp.

"We'll try our best." Chatner chuckled. "No promises, though." Frank shot Chatner the one-finger salute before closing the canopy over his head, while the rest of us hopped onto the treads and settled in for a long ride.

"Head west, Corporal." Lt. Drumms commanded. After a moment, the Scorpion lurched forward, before slowly turning to point west.

Another lurch later and we were off.

* * *

"Why did I get picked to do this assignment?" Soarin questioned the pegasus mare flying next to him. Fleetfoot didn't answer, merely stared down at the dusty ground, which was almost four thousand feet below the pair of Wonderbolts. "I mean, if this is about that incident with the loofah last month, I had already apologized fifteen times for it!"

"Its not that." Fleetfoot quietly said. "Spitfire picked us for the scouting mission because we're some of the best scouts she has." Soarin silently sighed.

"I know, Fleets." He said, looking at her. "I just think that we need more cadets in our Academy, you know? The last graduating class only had eight pegasi in it!" He exclaimed, throwing his hooves out to the sides. Fleetfoot nodded to acknowledge that she was listening, not taking her eyes off of the landscape below. Spotting something out of place, she narrowed her eyes and peered closer.

"Wait." She suddenly said, throwing out a hoof and nearly hit Soarin across the throat. "Do you see that?"

"See what?" He blinked and looked down at the ground. "What's that?"

"Don't know." She looked at him. "You want to go back and report, or stay and watch it for a while?"

"Let's stay." Soarin said after a moment. "We don't know if its dangerous or not and we'll need more information on it." Fleetfoot nodded and looked around for a pair of clouds for them to hide on. She could only spot one, but the two pegasi were trained to not be uncomfortable with having to share clouds together for reconnaissance missions.

"Let's hope it doesn't notice us..." Fleetfoot muttered, shifting a bit as she lay down next to Soarin.


	2. Chapter 2

"See anything, Sergeant?" Drumms asked as I stood on the body of the Scorpion, scanning the landscape.

"Nothing yet, sir." I replied after a moment, frowning. "Same old rocks and dirt as it was about ten minutes ago. There was a lizard a while back, if you want to know that kind of crap."

"Anything to indicate where we are?" Zed questioned.

"I've seen that species of lizard on several different planets, Zed." I answered, before training my eyes upwards. "Honestly, the only thing I find interesting is that cloud up there."

"How come?" Drumms asked, looking over at me.

"Its following us, sir." I explained. "Has been for the past twenty minutes. Thermals are random, so I know that it's deliberately following us instead of just riding the wind." He was silent for a moment, before looking up at said cloud to confirm what I said.

"Looks like it." He finally muttered, before looking at me. "Sergeant, keep an eye on that cloud." And then in a lower voice. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Aye, sir." I nodded and shifted my grip on the DMR in my hands. "Chatner, anything on the radio channels?" I heard the Lance Corporal sigh, before hitting his helmet.

"Nothing yet, sir." He said. "I've tried all channels, both secured and unsecured. All I've been getting is static, even on the Covenant channels. I hate to say this, but we're in the dark right now. Short of a miracle, we may be the only intelligent beings on this rock."

"We've met an alien species once before, Corporal." I stated, turning to look at him. "Granted, first contact blew up in our faces, but we've been able to prove that we're not alone in the universe. Who's to say that this place doesn't have sapient life as well?"

"Watch as first contact with these assholes blows up as well." Allan muttered from his position next to Zed and the Scorpion's driver canopy.

"Be quiet, Allan." Drumms said. "We don't know where the fuck we are, and for all we know, we're being watched."

"No, I know we're being watched." I suddenly said, raising the scope of my DMR to my visor to peer down it. "One, no, _two_ bogeys spotted, sitting behind that fucking cloud." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Drumms' SRS 99D AM raise into the air while he was looking down the scope.

"What the hell?" He muttered. "Are we seeing the same thing, Sergeant?"

"If you're talking about the hovering aliens, then yes sir." I confirmed, causing him to sigh. "They look a lot like horses, don't they?"

"The fuck?" Zed tapped the Scorpion's canopy. "Frank, stop the tank." After a moment, we lurched to a stop and Zed stood up, accepting the pair of binoculars I handed to him. "... Jesus Christ."

"Lieutenant, permission to fire a warning shot and see what they do?" I asked, looking at him. "Even though we haven't seen them yet, they could be a part of the Covenant."

* * *

"Shit!" Soarin swore, moving back a few inches. "Whatever those things were, they spotted us." He stated while Fleetfoot moved back, but kept her head out enough to see what they were doing.

"... The one with the long club is waving at us." She said after a moment, before looking to Soarin.

"What do we do?" Soarin questioned, glancing around in worry. The only other concealment around were a few rocks, which would require getting closer to the creatures.

One of which had finished waving at them in a very clear manner; get down from there.

"... You go and report this to Spitfire." Fleetfoot said after a moment of contemplation. "I'll go and see what they want." The stallion's eyes widened.

"What if they try to kill you?" Soarin asked, worry lacing his voice. Fleetfoot thought it was sweet, if a little paranoid.

"I'll be fine; something in the back of my mind is telling me that." She answered. Soaring stared at her for a long moment, before finally relenting with a sigh.

"Alright." He muttered. "But I'm returning with backup." With that he took off and headed west, leaving Fleetfoot alone.

"I know you will." She quietly said, before getting up and descending towards the ground.

* * *

"Well, they're either sapient of highly trained." I commented, pointing my DMR towards the ground. "On going somewhere while the other entertains us." Drumms grunted.

"Before we even meet it, do you think it's a threat?" He questioned, looking up at it.

"A single grunt is barely a threat, but a swarm of them can do serious harm." I replied, cracking my neck. "Quadruped with wings, large eyes, and hooves. No visible advantages over us, aside from the obvious ability to fly, though those hooves might break a skull if one's head is without a helmet. So far, it's a minimum threat."

"Fair, cautious conclusion." Drumms said. "Same with what I came up with." He then cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Only act hostile to it if it acts hostile first, but don't shoot it. If the need arises, merely incapacitate it; it could be our ticket out of this place." We all nodded while Zed pulled out a syringe and resealed his pack.

"How bad does your leg hurt, Allan?" He questioned.

"Bad, but I can take the pain." Allan answered. "That better not be a shotgun." Despite the grim humor, I let out a chuckle.

"Not quite yet." Zed replied, pushing the needle into his thigh. The needle was designed to slip through our under-suit without actually piercing it, so there wasn't a problem in piercing his flesh. "But you'll wake up in a few hours." After a few moments, Allan slumped to the right and would have fallen off of the Scorpion if Zed hadn't caught him.

It was at that moment that the flying horse thing landed near us. When it saw Allan fall to the side, it let out a soft gasp.

 _Definitely sapient._ I thought, before looking at Drumms. He nodded at me, understanding why I looked. _Here's to not botching up first contact._

* * *

Fleetfoot couldn't believe it; they just killed on of their own right in front of her!

 _No._ She thought to herself, watching as one slipped off of what was now obviously some sort of transport. _This may just be a misunderstanding. I don't know anything about these creatures. For all I know, it simply went to sleep._ She decided to hold off judgment for the moment, and play diplomat until Soarin arrived with his reinforcements.

"Hello?" She spoke up, causing the one who got down to tilt its head. She couldn't tell the gender, as it was fully covered in black armor, given away by the suit underneath that looked sorta like her Wonderbolts uniform in texture.

" _Hola_ (Hello)." Though Fleetfoot knew it was likely a male from the tone of voice, she still couldn't understand him. Though she was pretty sure that was 'hello'. " _Cualquiera tener una idea si eso era un lenguaje que podemos hablar?_ (Anybody get an idea if that was a language we can speak?)"

" _Con el debido respeto, eres un idiota._ (With all due respect, you're an idiot.)" A hatch on the machine opened up and another one of the creatures climbed out. " _El caballo está hablando en claro español._ (The horse is speaking in obvious Spanish.)" It stated something as it jumped down and kicked up a small cloud of brown dust from the impact.

" _Pues bien, usted está traduciendo para nosotros._ (Well then, you're translating for us.)" The first one said and crossed his forelegs. The second cleared his throat and coughed a bit.

"Ignore him, he hasn't had his coffee yet." Fleetfoot blinked, as she wasn't expecting any of them to speak Equish. Especially as fluently as he can, apparently. "My name's Frank."

"Fleetfoot." She stuck her hoof out. After a moment of hesitation, 'Frank' shook it. "What are you? If you don't mind me asking."

"We're _humana_ (human)." Fleetfoot frowned at the foreign word, her left ear flicking briefly.

"I'm sorry?" She strained her hearing, hoping to catch the word this time.

" _Humana_ " Frank repeated himself, sounding a bit confused.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know that word." She said with a small sigh. Frank shrugged before turning to the humana next to him.

* * *

"Well?" I questioned.

"Her name's Fleet Foot or something similar. And they don't have humans here, far as I can tell." He answered, cracking his knuckles.

"Alright then." I nodded. "Ask if there's any buildings nearby, so we can have some shelter for the night." Zed came over while Frank conversed with Fleet Foot.

"Equine in origin, but possesses wings and obviously larger eyes." He stated, causing both Frank and I to look at him. "They can't speak English, so I must record everything myself, and both my data pad and helmet cam aren't working for some reason. Duties of the only medical and intelligence officer on a planet controlled by a previously unknown alien race, I'm afraid."

"It's a good thing as well." Drumms added, causing the three of us to stiffen out of reflex. "When the UNSC finds us, they'll need as much information as possible for true negotiations."

"That and I want to get some hard evidence before ONI finds us and sinks their claws in this planet." Zed added. It was well known in the platoon that Zed hated the fuck out of ONI personnel.

 _If the UNSC finds us, that is._ I thought, but didn't dare voice it. "As good of a plan as any, sir." I said instead. Drumms glanced at me, having already depolarized his visor. Fleet Foot took a glance at him while continuing her conversation with Frank, and started staring.

" _Ver algo que te gusta?_ (See something you like?)" Frank chuckled, while I inwardly cursed not having a translation AI in my helmet. Some ODST squads did, but that was because they worked with ONI.

" _Lo sentimos._ (Sorry.)" Fleet Foot sheepishly grinned. " _De todos modos, la ciudad más cercana estaría a unos doscientos kilómetros al oeste, sobre el vuelo de una hora si no me presiono a mí mismo._ (Anyway, the nearest town would be about two hundred miles west, about an hour's flight if I don't push myself.)" Whatever she said caused Frank to suddenly cough and pound against his breastplate. Probably choked on spit.

"Holy shit." Frank took a moment to clear out his throat. Well... We have a destination."

"Alright then." Drumms started back towards the Scorpion. "Let's head out."

* * *

"You know," I stated as the Scorpion lumbered along the deserted plain. "I wonder how the fight for Earth is going."

"We're winning, of course." Zed stated from his spot, running a scanner over Allan's leg. "Son of a bitch!" He swore, causing all of us to look over.

"How bad is he?" Drumms questioned, looking back to his rifle's scope.

"If we don't get him to a hospital by tomorrow, he'll need an amputation to save his life." Zed grimly explained, causing me to sigh.

"Corporal, how much faster can this bucket go?" I said into the radio, all of us having already switched to a new frequency an hour ago, just in case there was somebody on the old one listening in. It was a slim chance, but we knew nothing about this world's inhabitants.

"Not much faster, amigo." Frank replied. "I can probably get this baby to go a little faster, but its no Warthog. If you can get the attention of our flying friend up there, I'll see if I can get an evac for him."

"Stop the tank." Drumms said, and we slowly lurched to a stop to avoid knocking Allan off. Once we were idling, Frank climbed from the canopy and shouted something in Spanish at the pegasus, which we learned was the name of one of the three 'equine species' that inhabited this world. There were others, but the equine species were some of the more prevalent. They had what appeared to be a shouting match for about a minute, before Fleet Foot gave a salute and zoomed off in the direction that we were heading. A few seconds later, we heard an honest to god sonic boom and this weird light blue light exploded from her rear, rapidly expanding outwards.

"... Well, I've seen enough for today." Calvin threw his hands in the air before crossing them and lying down on the tread pod. "Wake me up when we're back on Earth."

"Fucking hell, that was impossible." Zed muttered, before sighing and he returned to monitoring Allan's health.

"Frank... just, keep driving." For once, even Drumms didn't have anything to say on what just happened.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, what you're telling me, is that you and Fleetfoot have stumbled across a new race out in the Badlands." Spitfire recapped while staring across her desk at a slightly sweaty Soarin. While most ponies would simply dismiss the claims as a hallucination due to the unchecked heat, Spitfire knew better than to ignore things like this.

"That's correct, ma'am." He replied. "Seven unknown beings riding a large, metallic thing that is way too advanced for it to be from anypony on the planet."

"So, you're telling me that you two ran across aliens." She leaned back a bit. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this sounds?"

"Yes ma'am," Soarin started, "but I also know that you know I'm not lying." She nodded in confirmation. "What should we do?"

"We need to inform the princesses, and establish first contact with them." Spitfire said after a moment. "We're not diplomats... but right now we don't have any other choice. Go get some rest, Soarin, you'll need it if things go sour."

"But..." He started, but never got the rest of his sentence out.

"She'll be fine, Soarin. Fleetfoot's a capable mare, she can handle herself if need be." Spitfire said in a softer tone. Soarin slowly nodded, and as he turned to walk out of Spitfire's office, a breathless Fleetfoot pushed open the door and gave a weak salute.

"Captain, I trust that Soarin has already informed you?" She got out after a moment, coming into the room and standing next to the stallion. "One of them, a 'Frank', needs medical attention immediately." Spitfire stood up at that.

"What's wrong with this Frank?" She asked. "And they can communicate with us?"

"One of them can, the rest don't speak Equish... He said that Frank has a severely broken leg and needs it fixed as soon as possible, or they'll have to remove it to save his life." She explained.

"Very well. Get a medical team out and lead them to the visitors. How far away are they?"

"I left them when they were 200 miles to the east, and their machine, called a 'Scorpion', moves at around 60 miles in an hour, ma'am." Fleetfoot explained.

"Thank you, Fleetfoot. You're dismissed." The mare saluted and walked out to go find the medical teams, while Soarin turned back to his commander. "See? I told you that she could handle herself. Now, you should really go get some sleep, okay?"

"Yeah.. I should..." Soarin sighed after a moment, before saluting Spitfire. "Wake me up when they arrive, please?"

"You're one of the only ponies here who knows anything about them, Soarin. Of course." Spitfire nodded before shooing him away. "Now... where did I put my parchment?"

* * *

"Incoming bogies, 12 o'clock!" Chatner called out, staring up into the air. "It's our blue friend and some gold and white ones."

"Help's arrived..." Drumms muttered, before standing up. "Frank, stop the tank." That nearly turned out to be the wrong position to be in on a tank going 60 miles an hour, but he managed to stay standing.

"Calvin, help me move him." Zed said, standing up and picking Allan up a bit at the shoulders. "Be very careful with his leg, now." Calvin nodded and hopped off, before holding onto his legs and lifting up. Together, the two moved him off the tank in time for the pegasuses to land, a small group pulling a chariot of all things behind them.

"You could have said something about the chariot, Chatner." I commented as the two maneuvered Allan into the back of the vehicle.

"Yeah yeah..." Chatner waved me off. Frank, meanwhile, was climbing out of the cockpit to start translating.

" _Hola de nuevo, Fleetfoot._ (Hello again, Fleetfoot.)" He held out his hand in greeting. She placed her hoof into his palm, causing to wrap his fingers around it and give her a firm handshake. Once releasing the hoof, she stared at it for a few seconds, before shaking her head and placing it on the ground.

"Lieutenant, I'm requesting to go with Allan and oversee his condition." Zed said, standing next to us with his supplies already slung over his shoulder. I looked to the medical officer, ignoring the spanish pleasantries.

"You don't need to request that, even formally, Zed." Drumms answered. "Make sure the kid survives, will you? We need all the manpower we can get until the UNSC finds us."

 _If they find us._ I silently thought. _We ARE on an unknown planet, after all. For all we know, the Covenant have taken the planet and these pegasuses are luring us into a trap._

"Good luck with Allan, and yourself." The two shook, before Zed jogged off to get in with Allan. After a few minutes of talking, the pegasuses took off with Frank on board as well, and we idled around for a few minutes, confused as to how the chariot didn't dump the three out.

"I'm getting too old for this..." I muttered, before hopping onto the tank. "When're we moving out?"

"In five, Sargent." Drumms answered. "Take a stretch break, we have the time now. Chatner, you're driving."

"Aye, sir!"

* * *

"Hey Fleetfoot, what are they?" Corporal Swift Wing questioned of the mare as he flew overhead. Fleetfoot looked back at the chariot, observing how the conscious ones were looking over the injured one constantly, as if there was something they could do with just their eyes.

"The translator, Frank, said that their species was _Humana_. A word that we don't have." She replied after a moment. "And they're not from this planet."

"So, you're saying that there's life out there?" Wing blinked, looking up at the sky for a split second. "That's really hard to believe..."

"Believe it or not, it's true corporal." Fleetfoot said before going silent. The trip was pretty uneventful, until the escort neared Apploosa, when one of the awake ones stood up and looked over the side. Then the two looked at each other intently.

* * *

"Switch on comms." Frank said into his microphone, opening up a private link to Zed's helmet so the flying horses wouldn't hear them.

"So, what do you think of them?" Zed asked once he did the same.

"Colorful, a bit cute. Likely just want to help us, but might be with the Covenant." Frank said after a moment. "Pretty damn unlikely though, since they speak spanish."

"All the latin classes in the world won't help me here..." Zed sighed, rubbing his visor a bit. "Unless it's a bit like old Earth here, and most of the world uses separate languages to communicate between themselves, but what are the damn odds of that?"

"What'd you see over the side?" Frank asked after a moment, changing the subject.

"Farming community, with what looks like a military complex a few miles past the orchards. Looks like they're growing apples down there." Zed stated. Standing up, Frank got a good look at the settlement down there.

"What the hell? Those creatures aren't horses." Frank mumbled, causing Zed to look again. Galloping through the orchards was a herd of big, brown quadrupeds, wearing some sort of decorations on their heads.

" _Hey Fleetfoot, ¿cuáles son esos?_ (Hey Fleetfoot, what are those?)" Frank called out, pointing down at the herd. The pegasus looked down for a moment, before looking back at him.

" _Es la tribu de búfalos locales, predicar con el Jefe del trueno Cascos. Usted nunca ha visto un búfalo?_ (It's the local buffalo tribe, lead by Chief Thunder Hooves. You've never seen a buffalo?)" She explained.

" _No, no lo hemos hecho. ¿Son capaces de hablar?_ (No, we haven't. Are they able to speak?)" Frank asked, looking back down at them.

" _Tienen el mismo idioma que hacemos, sólo diferentes acentos. ¿Por qué?_ (They have the same language we do, just different accents. Why?)" Shrugging, Frank sat back down, ending the conversation.

"Well?" Asked Zed, who was checking on Allan again.

"They're sapient, species is apparently buffalo, a whole tribe of them. They can speak english, so communication will be easy." Frank explained, sighing a bit.

"A tribe... like the American Indians had?"

"Pretty sure. Or something else entirely, but they just call them tribes. Could be one hell of a family."

"Well, you'll find out sooner or later. Looks like we're beginning to land." With a bit of a sigh, both ODSTs prepared to disembark with their injured comrade.


	4. Chapter 4

As the chariot landed, Frank noticed a group of non-armored horses come out of a nearby building, which was obviously medical in nature. He waved them off before scooping up Allan's torso while Zed grabbed his legs and the two carried the unconscious ODST.

"La camilla es demasiado pequeña para él, pero gracias. (The stretcher's too small for him, but thanks)." Frank explained. "Llévanos al hospital para que podamos tratarlo. (Just take us to the hospital so we can treat him.)" The horses nodded and a couple lead them to the building, while Fleetfoot and the other's hung back to discuss what had happened. Frank and Zed quickly put Allan on an empty table once inside, and began undressing him to work on his leg.

"You know," Frank muttered as he stripped Allan's legs of armor, "I really should have paid better attention during first aid training."

"Then just follow my instructions to the letter, because these guys are _way_ behind in technology." Zed replied, pulling out a blood pack and shaking it to make sure it was usable. "As soon as those pants are off he'll probably start bleeding out if I'm guessing right." Frank grunted as he worked Allan's pants off, ignoring the gasps of the observers when a squirt of blood streaked across his visor. Zed hooked up the unconscious man to the IV and began cutting damaged tissue away from the wound.

"¿Estará bien? (Will he be okay?)" One of the nurses, Frank guessed as he eyed the medical cap, asked cautiously.

"A menos que Zed se joda, lo será. (Unless Zed fucks up he will be.)" He answered, pushing down on Allan's thigh, above the wound. "¿Hay un cinturón o algo por aquí? Necesitamos hacer un torniquete. (Is there a belt or something around here? We need to make a tourniquet.)" After a moment of fumbling around, another nurse passed a belt to him, which he used to stop the blood flowing as quickly. One of the weaker willed horses grimaced and left the room as they watched Zed set the cleared bone into place, and begin stitching up the wound.

"Frank go and find one of my biofoam cans." Zed said after a moment. "I want to be sure it stays disinfected." Frank nodded and scoured the medic's pack, before tossing it over. Zed hummed as he filled the cavity with the life saving foam, before stitching it closed.

"¿Para qué sirve eso, si podemos preguntar? (What's that for, if we can ask?)" The first nurse, the only one to have spoken so far, asked in curiosity, observing Zed stitch.

"Su espuma biomédica ayuda a evitar que la herida se enferme. Después de un par de horas, se descompone inofensivamente. (Its biomedical foam, helps keep the wound from getting diseased. After a couple hours it breaks down harmlessly.)" Frank answered. He might have dozed off several times during medical training, but he knew what it was. Especially with how many times he's used it. "Puede ser bastante doloroso de usar, pero es un salvavidas. (It can be pretty painful to use, but it's a lifesaver.)" She hummed and nodded, surprising him with how much she understood. From what he saw, most of the tech they had, period, was centuries behind humanity's.

"Talk about a culture shock..." He muttered, undoing the tourniquet and leaning back while Zed checked over Allan one last time.

* * *

"Orchard, 1 o'clock." Chauchat called out, causing Drumms and I to look over. "Don't know what they're growing, though."

"Apples." Drumms said after peering down his scope. "Chatner, keep driving, make a bit of a course direction. I want us to be perfectly parallel to their crops." The only sign that Chatner understood was a slight turn of the Scorpion.

"So... Chariots, huh?" Chauchat said after a moment, breaking the silence. "How the hell did they get that thing to fly? I didn't see any engines on it."

"Probably the same way _they_ were flying, private." I said, wiggling my fingers at him. "Magic." Drumms snorted in amusement as Chauchat rolled his eyes. "Any bets on the horses eating the others' spleens?"

"Three to one." Chatner replied almost instantly, the hatch having been lifted up for some actual ventilation about thirty miles ago. Drumms drummed his fingers on a thigh pouch for a moment, before shrugging.

"I didn't see any canines in their mouths, they're probably vegetarians." He finally said.

"They probably crack open your body and suck out fluids through a straw, then." I joked, keeping my visor zoomed in as I looked through the rows of trees. "Unknown contacts running through, looks like an entire herd of them." I stated, watching the quadrupeds stampede through the orchard in a controlled manner. "They're probably wildlife, so no need to worry about them." Drumms hummed for a moment, before nodding.

"You're the alien expert." He shrugged and went back to leaning against the turret. I shook my head, before muttering in spanish.

"Hey sarge." Chatner spoke up after a couple minutes, causing me to look over. "You said you're from Reach, right?" At my nod, Drumms looked over. "How come you don't speak Hungarian?"

"Yeah, you speak over a dozen languages but your home's secondary isn't one of them?" Chauchat added, causing Drumms to groan.

"I said I came from Reach last. I was on the _Pillar of Autumn_ when we crashed on Installation 04." I answered, ignoring his question. He didn't take the hint.

"You're ONI, aren't you sarge?" I couldn't fault him for coming to that conclusion, ONI was known to come and work with ODST and SPARTAN squads when there was an important objective in their AO.

"That's enough, trooper." Drumms stated, but I held up my hand.

"That's correct, Chauchat. Major Duncan, ONI. We were on a mission to assist in the capture of the Prophet of Regret, this Scorpion was to go to the forces on the ground."

"So you've been lying to us?" Chatner asked, but Drumms answered for me.

"We were to have been briefed mid-drop as we broke away from the rest of the troops to get on their ship." He explained, before waving at the dusty landscape to our left. "Kinda moot now, though." I couldn't say anything to add to his answer.

"Now we're to establish contact with these guys and build friendly relations." I could sense the sarcastic question coming up. "And no, I'm not vivisecting any of them. Nor conducting any field autopsies." The latter I would just ask for pictures and documents of one, that was a lot easier than trying to explain why I had their equivalent of a spleen in my pack.

Now the hardest part of everyone in the squad knowing I was actually ONI was to convince Zed to not vivisect _me._


	5. Chapter 5

"What's the plan, boss?" Chatner asked after a bit of silence. Drumms looked at me for a moment, before clearing his throat.

"We'll be setting up friendly relations with the local government, then figure out where the hell we are and how to get back to Earth." He answered, waving his hand lazily in my direction. "Our Office of Naval Intelligence liaison will be the diplomat for the duration of our stay here, since we cannot contact anyone who would be infinitely more helpful." I knew he was jabbing at the position and not me, so I didn't comment. It got a snicker out of the men, anyway.

"Since I and Allan can _somehow_ communicate with these... ponies," I still couldn't help but find them adorable, "we don't need to wait around for me to translate their language, which will get us back to Earth that much sooner."

"Amen to that." Chauchat muttered. "I want to put my boot up an Elite's ass for invading us."

"You'll get the opportunity, Calvin." Drumms promised, before holding a fist up. The Scorpion lurched to a stop, a single non-winged pony coming out from the grove. I was able to take in the light gold coat, along with the leather vest and stetson, before it bolted away through the orchard. "Follow it?" I hummed for a moment, before shaking my head.

"We're going towards town anyway, chasing after a single pony would delay that." I said. After a nod from Drumms, we kept moving. "Plus, its likely heading that way as well." I added as an afterthought. _Letting it run shouldn't bite us in the ass. I hope._

* * *

"Giving me a report?" Spitfire questioned as several nurses gathered on one side of her desk, placing the quill down to look up at them.

"Correct." The lead nurse, Faint Hope, stated, before clearing her throat. "They appear to be some sort of relative to the minotaurs or diamond dogs, as they walk upright on two legs, though they don't have any visible tails and their fingers are more dexterous. They are also pretty advanced medically, as the one known as Frank stated, having the ability to disinfect and seal up wounds with a foamy liquid instead of using alcohol and stitches, though their medic stitched up the rather large wound anyway. Likely to both aid in recovery and to conserve supplies."

"Medic, you say?" Spitfire leaned forward a little, raising an eyebrow.

"They're wearing thick armor of unknown materials, with an underlying cloth that appears similar to canvas." Another nurse, Dry Spell, piped up. "And they're armed with some sort of advanced musket, by what I've seen Frank carry around." She stepped forward. "The medic, who named himself as Zed, is definitely an experienced combat medic with how quickly he was able to patch up the wounded _humana_."

"Thank you, I'll add that we're dealing with a combat team to my report." Spitfire let out a sigh. "Which will make it that much easier to handle."

"Ma'am?"

"Look, since we're dealing with a group of alien military, it makes more sense to assign somepony with a military background as first contact diplomats." Spitfire explained. "We don't deal with backroom politics, and I'd bet a month's salary they'd appreciate being able to talk with somepony who won't try to backstab them if Equestria would benefit more out of it."

"And if they try to?" Hope asked in slight concern. Spitfire gave a shrug as she finished and sent her report, the parchment going up in green flame.

"Then we deal with it when the time comes." She pursed her lips. "Though I have a feeling they won't. They likely just want to go back home." At that moment, a guard poked their head in and cleared his throat.

"One of the Apples ran across our new visitors and alerted us, ma'am." He stated, removing his helmet. "They'll be here any moment now." Spitfire nodded in reply, feeding her letter to the dragonfire lamp.

"Thank you, Night. Find Fleetfoot and Soarin, tell them to meet me at town hall." The guard nodded and departed as she got out of her chair. "Let's go meet some aliens, huh?"


End file.
